


Helpless No Longer

by AliceLost



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2020-05-15 19:52:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19302679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceLost/pseuds/AliceLost
Summary: Buffy does not survive her Cruciamentum. Sired as a vampire by Kralik, she ends up in a much darker place as she works her way through her family and friends. Angelus would be proud.





	1. Joyce

**Author's Note:**

> Vampires' personalities are shaped by the desires of who they were as human, without any restraint or morality. Buffy has always had the desire to cut loose and be uninhibited, and has managed to do some dark things even as a human. With all of her restraint and need to be a good girl gone, her vampire self is going to revel in getting to go to dark places in much the same way Angelus did. This will lead to some very uncomfortable interactions with other characters, and is not going to have a happy ending.

Buffy's eyes snapped open with a gasp. For the last few days she had felt her power slipping away from her, claimed by that awful drug Giles had injected her with, and now suddenly she could feel it all flooding back to her. It was always an incredible power, the Slayer blood she carried inside her, but now that she had felt its absence for the first time in years, it flowed back into her like a torrent, nearly overwhelming her. Her muscles tensed with their rightful strength, her wounds ceased their aching, her senses expanded outwards to fill the room around her, soaking in every detail, every sound, every smell. It reeked of dust and dirt and age, mildew and rotten wood mixed with the sharp, fresh smell of blood. There had been a fight here, recently. It still stank of sweat and fear and...blood. She could hear the heartbeat pounding in her ears. 

_Badump-badump._  
_Badump-badump._

She could hear more than just that, the room was full of sounds no regular human would be able to pick up. Spiders and millipedes and rats scurrying in dark corners, tiny feet skittering over concrete and stone, wood creaking in the ancient wooden house above them. And she could see again! Not just the limited vision of an eighteen year old girl, but the night eyes of a predator, adjusted and finely tuned to piercing the dark and seeking out prey in even the blackest of nights.

That thought made her stomach growl, and she suddenly realized that she was ravenous. Her insides cramped like she hadn't eaten in a week, and her throat burned like a woman who'd never had a drink in her life. How long had she been lying here? She cast her mind back to what had brought her to this place, the council's barbaric test, her fight with the mad vampire Kralik, her attempt to rescue...  
Her mother! She thrust herself to her feet as energy surged through her, heartbeat still loud in her ears.

_Badump-badump._  
_Badump-badump._

She remembered it all now, her desperate, foolish attempt to rescue her mother from a vampire she had no strength to fight. Their mad chase through the boarding house, grabbing Kralik's pills and throwing herself down a laundry chute, finding her mother bound and gagged in a chair, trying frantically to find a way to rescue them in the seconds before Kralik found them.

The holy water. It had been a flash of brilliance, as she looked down at the bottle of pills she held in her hands. On a stool next to her mother sat a glass of water, convenient for Kralik's pills. All she had to do was pour it away, refill it with the small vial she carried with her, and let Kralik do the rest to himself. It was a good plan, a cunning plan...it should have worked. She didn't know where the second vamp came from. She had a feeling, in the back of her mind, that he hadn't been supposed to be there. Supposed to be on lookout, perhaps, in case any of the Watchers had returned. All it would have taken was a small distraction, one figure outside to draw his attention while she set her trap.

But that wasn't how it happened. Instead, he grabbed her and held her firm, tossing her vial into a corner where it shattered. In moments, Kralik flew down the stairs screaming, snatched his pills from her and downed them. She remembered the terror, then. Screaming, kicking, trying to regain any of the martial arts knowledge that came to her so naturally as the Slayer, buffeting the vampire with ineffectual blows. She had shrank back as far as she could from him as he approached, smiling maniacally at her fear and helpless thrashing.

“Don't worry, shh, shh, shh. I won't take it all. Just enough,” he had said, taking one sharp nail and slicing it down the back of his arm, tracing a glistening line of red. Buffy's protests had turned into inarticulate crying, tears steaming down her face as she tried something, anything, to get away, but her limbs were useless against the vice-grip that held her. And then he had bitten her, raising her sobs into a screaming crescendo before pressing his bleeding arm against her mouth. She had resisted, still, giving up on life entirely and trying only to keep herself from sucking in the red liquid that pooled around her lips, hoping at least for an undisturbed rest in death. But Kralik was familiar with how to make a girl take her medicine, and he had pinched her nose closed with his other hand, slowly sucking out her life essence until her body could hold out no longer and her mouth opened, gasping for air and gulping down only blood.

That was the last thing she remembered before waking. Buffy supposed that she should find it a traumatic memory, she could clearly remember the terror that consumed her as it happened, but now all she could think of was how _good_ Kralik's blood had felt going down her throat. How grateful she was to have been given a chance at something so much greater than death. How foolish she had been for ever resisting. She was the Slayer, she had been fighting against this for years, killing vampires wherever she found them...she could have had this years ago if only she'd had the clarity to understand what it would mean. 

Memories flashed through her, of the living nightmare that had given her a chance to taste this feeling. Of the pure ecstasy of the Master sinking his fangs into her neck and drinking from her. Of her holier than thou high-mindedness in yelling at Ford and his cult of groupies. She hadn't understood; even when she had crawled out of her nightmare grave she had been restrained, ashamed, weighed down by guilt and responsibility and the burden of humanity. She had never allowed herself to just let go, to enjoy herself, to take something that she deserved for once and to stop punishing herself for being better than the fragile humans that surrounded her. It felt intoxicating to do so now.

“Ah, you're up.” Kralik stood in one corner of the basement, rigidly upright and with his arms wrapped around him as though he was embracing himself. His eyes were closed, and he did not open them as he spoke. “I was beginning to wonder if I'd forgotten something. Don't you hate that feeling? Knowing you've forgotten something, and having it right on the tip of your tongue, but it's...gone.” He remained upright and motionless, clearly lost in his own distracted thoughts.

_Badump-badump-badump._  
_Badump-badump-badump._

Buffy frowned. She could still hear her heart beating in her ears, faster and faster, but she couldn't feel it in her chest. Breathing accompanied it, short sharp panicked breaths that didn't seem like hers at all. Curiously, she breathed in, suddenly aware that she hadn't breathed since she woke up. She could feel the air seep into her chest, filling lungs that no longer wanted it, and there it sat, heavy and foreign until she breathed it out again. It felt strange, and somehow wrong, an imitation of a life now gone. She thought back to her time with Angel, to the times she had felt his breath wash over her skin, devoid of any life or warmth. Had he trained himself to keep breathing just because he so badly wanted to be human again? It hadn't struck her as pathetic until she had felt how freeing it was to no longer be bound to such mortal restrictions. 

The memory of the Master dropping her into a pool of water came up unbidden, and of her sputtering back to life, spitting water and gasping for air as Xander knelt over her, holding her too close and breathing into her. She remembered the relief, the gratitude, and the sense that she had tapped into a greater power, and returned from death stronger than before. Now it just disgusted and disappointed her. She had been so desperate to cling to life, frantically scrabbling for it even as she lay across the threshold to something so much better. Why hadn't the Master wanted to turn her? She could have been freed from her miserable unsatisfying life years ago. And she could only imagine what it would have felt like to be sired by one as ancient and powerful as him. She was grateful to Kralik for the gift he had given her, but she could feel his blood was not connected to any ancient line of powerful vampires the way the Master was. The way Angel was.

_Badump-badump-badump._  
_Badump-badump-badump._

The beating sound was beginning to irritate her. She was free of these mortal needs now, why did she still hear- She cut herself off mid thought as she turned to survey the rest of the the room, and her gaze fell on the other figure in the room, still bound to a chair with a rag through her mouth. Joyce.

_Badump-badump-badump._  
_Badump-badump-badump._

Buffy could hear her heartbeat from across the room, practically feel it. She could sense the adrenaline and the sweat and the heavy breathing, the smell of fear as her mother looked at her with a mixture of fear, horror, and hope. Joyce hadn't been exposed to this new world of vampires and demons for very long, she had to have been sitting there for hours watching her daughter's corpse, but she wasn't as smart as the others. Even now she was excited with the possibility that Buffy was alive, was strong again and going to rescue them both, Buffy could see the excitement winning out over fear on her mother's face. She could feel it, too. The blood, pumping through her veins, rushing faster and faster as her heartbeat quickened. Buffy's throat screamed at her. Her stomach seized, and for a long moment all she could do was stare at her mother's long, vulnerable neck.

“My mother was the first thing I ate when I woke up, too. I found it very helpful in getting a sense of closure, although now I wish I'd made the moment last longer. There are some moments we only get to share with our families once, you know?”

Buffy stepped forward and slid the gag out of her mother's mouth. Joyce worked her jaw for a moment, then spoke with a mixture of alarm and confusion. “Buffy, we have to get out of here! That man, he's insane, he's going to kill us!”

“This is the problem I have with mothers. Well, one of them. Always wanting you to do what they decide is best.” Kralik stepped forward for the first time, opening his eyes and unwrapping his arms, as he started to approach Buffy from behind. Joyce's eyes widened in fear. “Aren't mothers supposed to be supportive, wanting their children to be whatever is best for them? And yet it always comes back to control. You bring a life into this world, and then you feel like you own it. Always telling it what to do, thinking you can take whatever you want from it.” He trailed off, turning to Buffy as she continued to regard her mother with a hungry look in her eye. 

“I apologize, I'm making this about me. This is your moment together.” He drifted a few steps back into the shadows. Joyce continued to look at her daughter incredulously, refusing to acknowledge what she saw there.

“Buffy, get me out of these!”

Buffy stood motionless for another moment, considering her options, before stepping forward and lowering herself to straddle Joyce's lap.

“You're not very bright, are you mom? You've never been very bright. Three years, I've been the Slayer. Coming home with grass stains and blood stains, scratches and bruises, and not once did you piece it together. Did you even think to ask. I dusted a vampire right in front of you, and still you needed me to spell it all out for you.”

“Buffy, wha-”

“Shh, mom.” Buffy pressed one finger to Joyce's lips and raised her thumb to clamp her jaw shut. “I'm talking now. I know he's a deranged psychopath, but he's also right. It has always been about you. You couldn't make things work with dad. You couldn't handle living in LA after I got expelled. You couldn't deal with having a daughter who was a screw up. You didn't want to be _disappointed_ in me. Do you remember that. Telling your only daughter what a disappointment she was to you? You couldn't handle being alone after you broke up with my father. Do you remember your psychotic robot boyfriend who tried to kill me? Do you remember scoffing at me when I told you he threatened me? Because what's your daughter's life when you compare it to Joyce getting laid, hmm?” 

Joyce's eyes widened to dinner plates, and she tried to shake her head and protest, but Buffy kept a firm vice grip on her jaw. All that escaped were some panicked grunts.

_Badump-badump-badump-badump._  
_Badump-badump-badump-badump._

“Is that what the problem was between us this whole time, mom? You just wanted your teenage daughter out of the house so you could get a quick fumble in, didn't care where she was or what kind of danger she was in as long as you got your private time?” Buffy ran her free hand down Joyce's side, slowly and uncomfortably sensually, and began gently thrusting her hips as she ground into her lap. Joyce clenched her eyes shut tight. 

“I heard you even tried to make time with Xander. Is that why you wanted me gone so badly, why you kicked me out of my house and told me not to come back? Just wanted a chance to be with someone, anyone, who could still get you wet without your daughter around to smell the sex on you?” 

Joyce opened her eyes, desperate and pleading but incapable of any other movement. Buffy slapped her across the face, hard and fast, nails drawing blood across her cheeks and leaving her gasping and breathless.

“No! You don't get to look at me like that! You had your chance. You had so many chances. You could have tried to understand me, understand what I was going through, but even after I explained it all to you, you didn't even try. All I heard was complaints about how dangerous it was, how I should quit and let Faith handle everything, like I didn't already know that it sucked beyond the telling of it. You got one chance to see what my life looked like on patrol, mom, and how did that turn out? _You tried burning me at the stake!_ ” Her voice was a roar now, her hunger and her anger and her demon all mixing together to bring her to an uncontrolled fury. “Well, good news. You finally got your wish. I quit.” 

With her last words, Buffy's face shifted, ridges jutting from her face as long fangs slid out of her mouth, her eyes turning a sickly yellow-gold. Joyce had only time to gasp in horror before Buffy leaned in and sank her fangs into the exposed soft flesh of her neck. Immediately, the intensity of blood poured over her. Hot, sweet, metallic, she inhaled greedily and felt it wash down her throat, quenching the burning sensation that had been plaguing her since waking.  
Her hand wrapped tightly in her mother's hair, pulling her head back as she gorged herself. It was the most intense feeling she'd ever experienced in her existence, the warmth and vibrancy of life surging through her again as she felt the ecstasy of feeding for the first time. She pressed closer, draining every last drop until she had to pull herself away from the empty corpse in front of her, hungrily licking the blood from her fingers and fangs, exhilarated and not at all satisfied. 

“You want more.” Kralik intoned from the shadows. It was not a question. Instinctively, Buffy turned on him with an animalistic snarl, before reminding herself that he was her sire. She nodded, still suckling the last drops of red from her finger.

“Then let us hunt. Nothing is ever quite as good as your first kill, but we can feed. Together.”

Finally, the room felt truly silent, the sound of heartbeats in her ears no longer.


	2. Kralik

“Help, please, somebody help me!” The girl ran down the darkened alley, glancing over her shoulder at her pursuer. As she turned the corner, she ran straight into two men who were loitering by a back door, laughing. Pressing her hand against his chest, she looked up at the one she had collided with.

“Please, you have to help me, somebody is chasing me, he's strong and fast, and I think there's something wrong with his face.” She looked up at him helplessly.

“Aww, don't you worry little lady, you're safe with us. You stick around here and you'll see, we ain't afraid of no guy.” He ran his hands intrusively down her sides, but she didn't pull back.

“Oh, I'm planning on sticking around. But it's not that guy you should be afraid of.” She squirmed into his grip, brushing her long blonde hair out of her face as she gazed up at him, helplessness now replaced with hunger in her glowing yellow eyes. He recoiled from her fanged visage, but she grabbed his shirt and held him in place. His buddy turned and fled.

“What are you?” He tried to wrest her arm off him, but her muscles were like corded steel. She grinned back.

“I'm Buffy. The vampire Slayer.” She chuckled at her joke, pressing him further back into the alley wall as she ran her hands over him. “What's the matter, I thought you wanted me? Not even a kiss?”

She pulled him down to her, sinking her fangs into his mouth and drawing blood with her bite. He tried to protest, but she bit down harder and everything got lost in the pain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Kralik caught up to her, she had already drained the corpse. The blood felt so good sliding off her tongue and down her throat. She had meant to savour this kill more, toy with him first, but as soon as that first drop had hit her she had lost all control. Nothing had ever made her feel this good before, not slaying, not Angel, nothing. She was starting to feel the deep burning need within her being met, but another part of her knew that she'd never be truly sated. She might be able to control the desire to feed for a while, but as soon as that vibrant red liquid had finished pouring over her lips, she'd always be craving another drink. The cycle of death would never end until she did.

Which, as it happened, matched up perfectly well with her new plans as a vampire. She had already spent so much of her life saving people, it was time to finally enjoy being free of that burden. 

“I thought you said you were going to save some for me?” Kralik asked playfully as she dropped the body to the ground. 

“Oops,” she replied, mock contritely, “I forgot. I am evil now.” She craned her neck in the direction the other guy had run. “Besides, it's more fun to work up an appetite first, don't you think?”

Kralik smiled. “Yes. I want to enjoy the running. It has been so long since I've had a good chase.”

“Well, he's all yours. Unless I get him first.” She offered him a playful smirk. “Then I think there are some things I need to take care of myself.”

“Of course. Such a busy time, so many people to reconnect with. It's important to get the closure you need.” He stretched his arms and rolled his neck for a minute until his demon pushed to the surface, eager for a hunt. “You know where you'll find me.” He took off after the scent of fear down the alley, and she bolted after him, exalting in the chase, the thrill of motion and the night air.


	3. Giles

The double doors creaked open as Buffy slowly entered the library, blood and dirt still smeared on her face and overalls as she stepped into the room. First out of the office was Giles, surprise evident on his face as he saw her, and then as he took in her condition. Behind him sauntered Quentin Travers, his expression as unruffled and superior as always, still holding a cup of tea in his hands.

“Buffy?” Giles started towards her immediately, catching himself uncertainly when she flinched from him, not meeting his eyes. 

“Congratulations Miss Summers. I was beginning to suspect that you hadn't been able to pass your test.” Quentin spoke in his usual tone, as a professor speaking to a slightly slow student. Giles snapped his head around and the certainty in his voice. “It has been some hours since you engaged the field of play.”

“You knew?” Giles bit out a response with startling venom, although Quentin didn't flinch. “You knew she went back there and you didn't tell me?”

“It's clear that your affection for your charge has rendered you incapable of clear and impartial judgment, Mr. Giles. The council agrees that-”

“I don't give a rat's ass about the council, I thought I made that perfectly clear.” Giles turned back to Buffy, studying her with uncertain eyes. “Are you...?” He trailed off, not entirely sure how to bring himself to finish.

“I was taking my mother home.” she said quietly, still not looking at him.

“Your mother?” Concern turned to horror on his face as he realized why Buffy had returned to the boarding house to face Kralik. “Is she alright?” Buffy nodded mutely.

There was a long moment of silence that hung in the library as Giles processed what had just transpired without his knowledge. Kralik, the mad vampire, not only escaping from the council's custody and turning one of their own into one of his kind, but abducting Joyce to lure Buffy back into a confrontation. Buffy, going back willingly to face a powerful vampire even without any of her powers, and clearly having killed him. Joyce, held captive by a man who had been a deranged psychopath before he had become a vampire. And Quentin Travers, returning to the library after he knew Buffy had gone to fight Kralik, sitting and drinking tea with Giles to keep him from interfering. The moment was broken by Quentin, addressing Buffy with faint pride as though her were completely ignorant of the horrifying and dangerous events he had just allowed to transpire.

“Well. You exhibited extraordinary courage and clearheadedness in battle. The council is very pleased.”

Buffy regarded both of them with equally cold, dead eyes. She remained motionless except for a slight step away when Giles attempted to move to her, which stopped him in his tracks.

“Do I get a gold star?”

“I understand that you're upset-”

“You understand nothing. You set that monster loose and he came after my _mother_.” Giles circled slowly towards the table, out from between Buffy and Quentin, and turned to that he could cast his stony gaze on his employer without turning away from Buffy. His face was a mask of emotionlessness that concealed a cold fury.

“You think the test was unfair?” Quentin's emotionlessness, in contrast, was genuine, as if discussing the Slayer's near demise was as interesting to him as the weather.

“I think you better get out of town before I get my strength back.” Her tone was quiet, but the threat in it was very real, and with an edge Giles didn't think he'd ever heard from her before.

“We're not in the business of 'fair', Miss Summers. We're fighting a war.”

“You're _waging_ a war. She's fighting it. There is a difference.” He couldn't contain himself any longer, and even though he was aware of the consequences of antagonizing the council, he was suddenly sick of Quentin Travers beyond his ability to hold a stiff upper lip.

“Mr. Giles, if you don't mind-”

“The test is done. We're finished.”

“Not quite. She passed. You didn't.” Quentin levelled his disaffected gaze at Giles, disapproval evident in his face like a parent scolding a very young child. “The Slayer isn't the only one who must perform in this situation. I have recommended to the council, and they have agreed, that you be relieved of your duties as Watcher effective immediately. You're fired.”

“On what grounds?” Giles' head was spinning with the ramifications of those two words. His role here in Sunnydale, his responsibility to Buffy, and to the other children...he missed the sudden look of predatory interest that crossed Buffy's face as she watched this new and unexpected development.

“You have a father's love for the child and that is useless to the cause.” Quentin let the truth of that statement, phrased as an accusation, hang for a moment. “It would be best for you not to have further contact with the Slayer-”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

“No, well, I didn't expect you to adhere to that. However, if you interfere with the new Watcher or try to countermand his authority in any way you will be dealt with. Are we clear?”

“We're very clear.” Giles removed his glasses and very deliberately polished them, not looking at Quentin while he spoke through a clenched jaw. No matter how much he wanted to cross the distance between them and lay the man out cold, no outburst from Giles would be enough to ruffle his implacable calm, but while Quentin was never outwardly emotional he was certainly vindictive, and capable of continually making any situation worse if provoked. Quentin waited just long enough to make it clear that his authority was respected even when Giles didn't work for him, then turned and slowly walked out of the library, pausing to speak to Buffy as he passed her.

“Congratulations again.”

“Bite me.”

“Yes. Well. Colourful girl.” And with that he left the two of them alone. Giles slowly put his glasses back on and looked at her again, examining the gash on her forehead. She met his gaze for the first time, and he was held in place by the anger in her eyes; the anger, and something darker he couldn't immediately place.

“You're hurt.”

“I am.” Now that she had locked eyes with him, she didn't look away. She began to advance on him, slowly, with a sense of menace he hadn't seen from her before. “He wanted to turn me, Giles. He took my mother so that I'd go to him, and then he wanted to make me like him, so that the first thing I ate was her. I tried to stop him, and he was so strong. So much stronger than me. I couldn't fight him.” He opened his mouth to make words, but no sound came out.

“I nearly died tonight. Not just rotting in the ground dead, but walking around murdering my family and friends kind of dead.” The anger started to slip from her voice as it began to quiver with tears. “And it would have been you that killed me.”

“I'm so sorry.” Giles rushed forward, overwhelmed with the urge to hug her, but stopped as she held out her hand with a look of fear and disgust. “I've failed you, and I don't know that I can ever make it right. I was blinded by my adherence to tradition and protocol. I don't expect you to ever be able to forgive what I did, but if there's anything I can do to help you, anything you need...” The pain was evident in the deep lines in his face.

“Failed me? _Failed me?_ Giles, this wasn't some history test that you gave me a bad grade on! You know what the one greatest nightmare I've had since I became the Slayer is. You saw it happen! Waking up with bumps and fangs, turning on the people I love. If I had harmed one other person tonight as a result of what you did...it wouldn't have been just my death you were responsible for.”

“I suppose I'll have to find a way to live with that knowledge.” He looked at her sadly, the remnants of his stoicism that masked a deep well of emotion starting to crumble. She turned to leave and held herself there, hiding her expression from him.

“How many times?” she asked quietly.

“What?”

“When you...drugged me. You hypnotized me, with a magic crystal or something. I don't remember any of it. How many times did it happen?”

Giles clenched his jaw, like the words were something foul tasting he was struggling to get out. He ran his fingers through his hair, then looked back at Buffy, concealing nothing in his expression. “Twice. That was the recommended...number of doses.”

Her expression twisted into one of sadistic glee, which she carefully angled away from him, burying her face in her long blonde hair. “What...else, did you do to me?”

“What else?” His brow furrowed in puzzlement.

“What else?” she shouted, contorting herself into rage and pain again as she turned back to confront him. “What else did you do to me when you had me hypnotized? Did you touch me?”

“Touch you?” His confusion suddenly turned to horror. “My God, Buffy, no-”

“What else did you do to me, you bastard? What did you do with the eighteen year old girl you hypnotized, and drugged, and made powerless to stop you? You know you should be in jail just for that!”

“Buffy!” Giles' cry cut off as tears began streaming down his face, disbelief at the depth of her accusations written on every part of him. He missed the flicker of a smile that crossed her face before she caught herself and covered her lapse by shouting louder.

“Was it even just me? Who else have you sat down in front of that crystal to “meditate” with? Faith? Willow? Maybe the other teachers have been right, the ones who worry about the creepy old librarian who spends all of his free time with teenagers.”

“Buffy, enough!” Giles bellowed back, no longer able to withstand her assault. “I would never...I can't even conceive of such things, but if you can I've clearly failed you more deeply than I realized. I...I will leave. I've caused more damage here than I can mend, and you and Faith will be getting a new Watcher. Nobody needs me here any more. I'll, I'll start packing my books tonight, and I'll be on the first flight to London. You won't need to worry about me any more. I just hope that, someday, that you will know that I never meant to hurt you, at all. Foolish and misguided though that was.” 

He paused, processing what he had just said, searching Buffy's face for any hint of understanding, but all he saw was the same dead expression and soulless eyes she'd had when she walked in. In the moment of silence that followed, he reached for his glasses and handkerchief, but his hands were shaking too much to hold either. Slowly, he turned, defeated, and started into his office, but he stopped at her very quiet voice.

“There's something you need to know about me, Giles. About what happened tonight.” He looked at her, as she seemed in conflict about what to say next. “You were right about one thing. I don't expect I'll ever be able to forgive you, either.” With that, she turned and left the library.


	4. Quentin

“Mr. Travers!” Buffy called after him as he walked through the empty school halls. He turned, regarding her with an impassive yet critical eye.

“Miss Summers. I believe our business has been concluded for the evening.”

“I don't think it has. I think you've made a mistake tonight, Mr. Travers. A huge mistake.” She came swiftly down the hallway to cross the distance between them.

“Yes, I understand why you would think that Buffy,” his mouth clenched as though sneering at the absurdity of the name, “but you are young, and it is not your decision. The Council believes-” 

“The Council is a collection of powerless idiots who like controlling little girls and pretending to be generals because they're no good at anything else in life. You've all made one bad decision after another because you're too pompous to admit that you're outdated and out of touch,” she told him calmly.

“These emotional outbursts will do no good at getting Mr. Giles reinstated, Miss Summers. The Council has made up its mind.” Quentin gave her a condescending smirk.

“Oh, I'm not talking about Giles losing his job. I'm talking about the other decision the Council made. Series of, actually.” She reflected his smirk joyfully.

“Oh? And which decision would that be?”

“The decision to lock an unpowered Slayer in a house with a vampire who wanted a companion. The decision to distract her Watcher rather than carefully monitoring the outcome. Oh, and the last one's the doozy here: deciding that because she walked into the library hours later, that she had passed her test.”

A flicker of concern flashed across Quentin's face, and he slowly reached one hand into his tweed jacket. “Are you implying-” he didn't get the sentence out before Buffy grabbed him by the throat, squeezing both the words and the air out. She clamped her other hand around his elbow and held his arm in place inside his jacket and strode forward, slamming him into the classroom door and through it as it crashed open, continuing on until he connected with the wall at the back of the room. His feet dangled off the floor as she held him up by his neck.

“Am I implying that your dumb test backfired in the most horrifying and predictable way possible? Yeah, pretty much.” Her face changed as her demon came to the surface, hungry for death. She was disappointed by the lack of reaction from Quentin, but his look of shock was still probably the most emotion he had shown in years. He wheezed to try and get words out through her steely grip.

“Why does everyone seem to think I care about what they have to say while I'm killing them? At least when I was dusting vamps, I wasn't having to listen to their opinions.” She wrenched his elbow in the wrong direction, causing a gruesome popping sound, and a cross fell from the bottom of his jacket. Stepping gingerly around it, she slammed him against the chalkboard, releasing her grip on his arm and letting it fall limply to his side.

“No, I'm going to kill you now. I don't think I'm even going to feed off of you, just snap your neck and walk away, that's how little you mean to me. But I will kill the other Slayer, and my old Watcher, and the new one, and a whole lot of other people besides. And it will all be because you dreamed up the dumbest test imaginable, Quentin, just because you wanted to feel smug and superior. Think about that.” 

She twisted savagely and let his body fall limp to the floor. They would probably find his body sooner rather than later, but there were no shortage of things capable of snapping a neck in Sunnydale, and more importantly, she just didn't really care.


	5. Willow

Willow was still on her computer when there was a rap on her balcony door. Pulling back the curtain, she saw Buffy huddled outside, shivering and glancing backwards into the night.

“Buffy?” She opened the door and gave her best friend a curious look, holding it open for her to enter.

“Willow!” Buffy glanced quickly at her, the door, and then back out into the darkness. “I think something was following me, I ran here as fast as I could, but I don't know...can I come in?”

“Of course! Come in!” Willow waved her in, peering over Buffy's shoulder to see if she could spot anything out there, then hurriedly closing the door behind her. “What was it, do you know? Just a regular vamp, or something else?”

“Probably just a vamp, I think. I should be safe here now. I'm just not used to running away from them, you know? Supposed to be out there fighting them.” Buffy sat on Willow's bed and tucked her legs up beside herself. 

“It's okay, you did the right thing, running away. Faith can handle the Slaying for a while, until you're, you know. Feeling better.” Willow sat next to Buffy and curled up beside her.

“I just feel so useless. Like I don't have anything to contribute that somebody else isn't already doing better.” She glanced over, an apologetic look on her face. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Sorry? Sorry about what?” 

“Oh, nothing. I should just be more considerate with my words, is all. I suppose you've felt like this plenty of times before.” Buffy looked at her apologetically.

“Felt what? Useless?” She tried not to be hurt, and focus on Buffy's feelings. “We're not useless! There's lots we can do to help. There's always research, and if there's a spell that needs casting, you can help me with that. You know, maybe a simple to middling spell, but I'm still learning.”

“Oh, who are you kidding? Spells?” Buffy was on her feet again, pacing the room. “When Giles was our age he was already conjuring demons and mastering some seriously black arts. You can't even get Amy to stop being a rat, that's not even light arts, that's like no colour at all arts.”

“Buffy, I know that you're upset-” She couldn't quite manage to keep her tone even, despite her concern.

“Upset? I'm turning into you! Will, face it, there isn't anything Giles has you doing for him that he couldn't do twice as well himself if he didn't want to make you feel helpful. Even Xander goes and gets us doughnuts. What am I supposed to do, just sit beside you and flip pages until Giles tells us who Faith's going to kill?”

“I mean,” her voice caught a little in her throat, “it's not been so bad when we've done that before, has it?” Buffy was upset about losing her powers, she wasn't going to make this about her, she wasn't going to cry.

“Will, it makes me want to kill myself.” Her best friend looking at her like she was stupid was not helping with her emotional control. “The only thing that gets me through those snooze-fest study sessions with you is knowing I get to go and beat the shit out of some beastie afterwards. If I can't take out my frustrations on that, I honestly don't know how I'll survive.”

“Buffy, I didn't know. I know you don't love the books, but I never thought you hated it, hated doing it with me, so much.” The tears were starting to slip out, and she fought back against them. Once they started, she wouldn't be able to stop, and she needed to keep it together to help Buffy.

“Why do you think I've spent so much time with Faith since she got here? She's the only person here who actually understands me, and doesn't make me want to gouge my eyeballs out when they're around.” Buffy paused, a careful note of concern in her voice. “What's wrong? Are you crying?” She perched back on the edge of the bed next to Willow.

“No, I'm fine. I'm fine.” She couldn't hold it back as the floodgates started to open. “I'm not fine, I'm not, I've tried so hard to be okay with everything, with you and Faith and Angel and...everything, and I'm not okay. I thought I was your best friend and I just wanted to be there for you, and I haven't been able to, and oh God, it's me, isn't it? I've let you down, and I've been a bad friend, and I talk too much about books and spells and Giles and I don't listen to what you're going through, and it's all my fault...” she choked out through sobs.

Buffy gave her a look of disappointed resignation, like she wasn't prepared to hold back the truth much longer. “No, Willow, it's not you...” she trailed off, her tone as unconvincing as Buffy ever was when she lied.

“Oh God, it is. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” She broke, conscious of the way Buffy was looking at her as she sobbed, knowing that she was letting her friend down again by not being there for her when she needed it but unable to stop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A long few minutes passed, Willow hiding her face in her pillow as she cried, and Buffy watching her from the edge of her bed. In life, she'd had affection for Willow. She'd been jealous as well, at times, but she'd been too kind to say anything. Things just came naturally to Willow that Buffy had always wished she could have: good grades, a steady relationship, a stable home, special powers she could walk away from whenever she felt like it. She was the good girl Buffy had spent her whole life dreaming of being.

Now all of those dreams felt like waking up from a nightmare. She had so much power. The idea that she'd ever wanted to restrain herself so that she could make other people happy, as the proper schoolgirl, the doting daughter, the devoted best friend, the good girlfriend, the perfect Slayer...she was sick to her core of denying who she really was. She didn't need to clamour for anyone else's approval any more.

Willow finally took a breather from her sobbing, red hair plastered to her face with tears and bloodshot eyes looking tentatively at Buffy. It would be so easy to take her now, holding her down and sinking her fangs into the soft, pale flesh of her neck. She imagined Willow would taste so good. 

But she didn't want this to end so quickly. She understood Angelus now, in a way she'd never wanted to before. Willow, Xander, Giles, these were the people who had kept her caged and leashed to a world she had no place in. Even as a Slayer she might have been more like Faith, wild and feral and free, if she hadn't been bound to so many pathetic humans holding her back. She wanted to savour every minute of undoing them before the end.

“I should go.” She pulled back from Willow's look for reassurance, dodging eye contact awkwardly as though she knew she wasn't capable of saying anything that would make things better. “I'm sorry for...everything.”

“Buffy, no, the vampires. What if they're still out there?” Even this distracted, the redhead couldn't stop trying to control her. She opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony, turning over her shoulder as she went.

“I'll be fine, I don't see them out here any more. Maybe I'll go find Faith. I know she'll be able to help me.” The reflection in the glass door was faint, but she was just able to see Willow's hurt face through her own lack of reflection as she walked out into the night.

This was _fun._


	6. Xander

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: This chapter contains depictions of sexual violence and rape.**

First, she went home to change. The overalls she was wearing were depression and self-pity incarnate and she couldn't stand them a minute longer. Fortunately, everyone who lived in the Summers' residence was now dead, so she had no difficulty letting herself in. 

In her bedroom she tore her closet apart, throwing most of her clothes in a heap in the corner to be burned. How was it possible that she owned so many clothes, and so few that didn't look like she was trying to impress somebody's grandparents? Her fashion sense had been tragically conservative. Fortunately, she was left with a couple of pieces that she could work with: some leather pants and coats, a few simple black tops, and one very interesting shiny black dress. She shimmied out of her overalls and threw them enthusiastically in the pile for burning before slipping into a tight-fitting pair of pants and a black tank top.

Rummaging through her makeup collection for a half-decent lipstick and eyeliner, she sat herself down at her vanity and then swore. How the hell was she supposed to do this? She'd spent an entire year fighting Drusilla, and never once asked herself how the woman managed such a perfect look. Maybe Spike did it for her, he seemed like he had a soft domestic side underneath all the swagger. She thought about asking Kralik for help and grimaced. Nope, she'd just have to learn how to do it herself.

Several frustrated minutes later, she decided that if it wasn't any good, she'd just eat whoever complained, so it didn't matter. Time to go out and have some more fun. She had been thinking about what she wanted to do next. Giles and Willow were both crying themselves to sleep by now, she presumed, and she wanted to let them sit in that a while before she gave a follow-up act. Angel she hadn't decided what to do with yet: he wouldn't be that hard to seduce if she wanted to unleash Angelus again, and she knew she could take him if she wanted him dusted, but she hadn't made up her mind. Angelus would have a fantastic time with the idea of Buffy as a vampire, but he was notorious for not playing well with others, and as much as she appreciated his devious mind and the chance to chat with him, she knew that it would probably end with her killing him.

Faith she was looking forward to killing, she hadn't fought a Slayer before and it seemed like a great way to get herself started. But she wanted to enjoy the slow simmer of everybody's discomfort a while longer before she slaughtered them all, which just left Xander. The boy who had wanted to possess her since the day he'd met her, and had continued to be jealous and bitter ever since. Maybe it was time to find out just what he'd do with her if he finally had her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite the fact that sunrise was only a couple of hours away, the Harris household was full of loud shouts and crashing. Buffy couldn't tell if the inhabitants were up late, early, or simply rousing for a quick pre-dawn fight before falling back into a stupor. As it was, she had to knock hard enough on the door to nearly break it in before the shouting stopped, and it swung open to reveal an incredibly drunk man brandishing a pizza cutter. 

The stink of booze wafted over the threshold to her, and she was grateful that she didn't have to breathe. His heart was trying to beat quickly, but his health and his weight kept it pained and erratic. She felt convinced that if she drank him she would pass out from cholesterol or alcohol poisoning. For a long moment they regarded each other, him trying to focus his blurred vision on her, her contemplating being so disgusted by a creature she didn't even want to kill it.

“Wha d'yo' wan', huh?” As his eyes started to focus, he began leering down at her.

“Please may I come in, sir? I'm Xander's, uh...” she trailed off, looking down shyly.

“What?” He stared at her, not comprehending. “Did ma' boy f'nally get a piece? Giv'n him some action, huh? Good fer him!” He wandered away from the door, staggering back into the house. She pressed gently against the threshold, but like an invisible wall it kept her outside.

“Please sir, may I come in?” As a human, everything she had learned about Xander's father had caused her to hate the man. He was violent, abusive, neglectful, and Xander's primary role model on how to talk about women. Now, she had much less interest in judging his morality, but that old hatred was still very easy for her to access, and if the stumbling drunk passed out while she was still standing in the street, she might have to find a way to act on those feelings. A way that would certainly not involve drinking a drop of his blood.

“Do wha'ev'r yo' like, then. He's upstairs.” He continued towards the back of the house, but the pressure at the threshold did not dissipate at his vague offer.

“Please, Sir!” Manipulating the people in her life was coming easily to her, far easier than this kind of deception ever did when she was living, but this oaf who was nothing to her but an impediment was inspiring the old frustration. The desire to give up on subtlety and kick down the door.  
That was one thing that had been easier for her before.

“I said!” Mr. Harris suddenly spun on his heels and bellowed, a deep thundering roar as he brandished his kitchen implement like a weapon. “Come 'n go as you fuckin' please, you dumb cunt!” Spittle flew from his mouth and his cheeks glowed red, but the barrier holding her back suddenly disappeared. Whatever mystical forces governed such interactions were apparently satisfied.

“Thank you.” Buffy stepped inside, grabbing the side of the man's head without bothering to look at him, and slammed him hard enough against the wall to leave blood streaks. He slid to the floor, unconscious or dead, she didn't care to check.

Stalking up the stairs, she silently opened the door to Xander's room and slipped in. It was dark, but her senses were heightened beyond anything she'd ever possessed as the Slayer, and she could see perfectly. The faint pounding of his heartbeat reached her ears, and his soft rhythmic breathing. She could kill him without him ever waking up, but that would be no fun. It was time to make him feel things.

Pulling her shirt over her head and dropping it to the floor, she peeled her pants off and stepped out of her underwear, unclasping her bra and letting it fall onto the heap. She pulled up the covers and slid underneath, feeling the warmth of his body heat against her cold skin. Despite his objectionable personality, he did look very good for a boy his age. At least without his clothes on, when he didn't look like his mother dressed him. 

As her flesh pressed into his, he stirred, rolling towards her and mumbling in his sleep. “No...Willow, I can't...well...maybe just...”

His face landed directly between her breasts and the mumbling ceased. His hand came up to wipe drool from the corner of his mouth, and landed on her exposed breast instead. It rested there for a long moment as she stared down at him, waiting, and then his eyes shot open, suddenly awake.

“What? Who? I swear, we weren't...huh?” He looked at her in utter confusion, and she smiled sweetly back. “Buffy?”

“Hello Xander.” She put a husky note in her voice and watched him try to blink away the bewilderment. 

“You're...here. In my bed...” His gaze slid down to her bare chest and lingered for a very long moment before he caught himself. “And naked!”

“That's right. Isn't that what you've always wanted? Me, just like this. My sexy body that you can do anything you want with. Don't tell me you haven't been thinking about this, alone, in the bathroom, for years.” She licked her lips.

“Oh God, this is another love spell, isn't it?” He belatedly realized his hand was still groping her and jerked it back like it was on fire. “I swear I didn't do it this time.”

She shook her head. “No magic. No excuses. Just you, and me, and all your dirty little fantasies. Tell me what you want, Xand, it's not like Angel can scratch this itch for me.” She shifted her weight and suddenly she was straddling him under the covers, grinning down at him.

“This isn't right. I don't know why it isn't right, and I wish to God it was, but something is very wrong here. Gaahh.” He yelped as she slid her hand down between their thighs.

“I dunno, I think you like it.” She bit her lip and affected a schoolgirl pout. “Don't fight me. You know you want it.”

“No! I mean, yes, obviously, but no. I want a lot of things that are bad for me. Experience shows, getting them? Not always a good idea.” He grabbed her arms and lifted, a motion that should have freed him from underneath her. Instead, she simply tensed her thighs and stayed perfectly on top of him, wiggling suggestively.

“Get off!” He tried pushing harder, but it was like fighting a brick wall.

“That's what I'm trying to do. But you're not helping.” She rocked forward, running her hands across his chest and feeling him respond despite himself. 

“Buffy, why?” His face was full of confusion and fear, and it intoxicated her. This was what sex was supposed to feel like, not Angel's infantile coddling. Her only response was to grab his hands and plant them firmly on her body, touching herself with them as she rocked harder. He flinched at her touch.

“Gah, cold hands.” Concern started to slowly spread across his features as he forced himself to focus on what he was feeling. “Buffy, you're freezing.”

“Nah, just room temperature. But you're warm and it feels so good.” She could feel herself starting to get lost in the moment, but she kept her eyes on his expression.

“No...no, this can't be happening...oh God, no, Buffy...” He looked to her for any kind of sign that he was misunderstanding what was happening. In response, she vamped. She ran her tongue slowly and sensuously over her fangs as his protests turned to screams, and she lowered herself down on top of him.


	7. Oz

“Giles?”

Willow surveyed the disorganized library, with empty shelves and boxes full of books everywhere. It looked distressingly similar to the police raid the week before. She felt her heart fluttering, wondering if there were more adults about to jump out and try burning her at the stake. “Giles?”

“Hmm?” Giles' head poked out of his office, eyes bloodshot and sleepless. “Oh, Willow. Yes. Hello.” He looked at her furtively, then ducked back inside.

“Are you okay? Are they taking your books away again?” She peered cautiously through the doorway, half expecting to be grabbed, but all that was in his office was Giles packing a large stack of tomes.

“What? Oh, no, they're fine, they're all going back with me.” He spoke absently as he continued to organize the pile of books on his desk.

“Oh. Well, that's good. Wait, going back where?” She couldn't tell if she was more alarmed by his words or his distracted manner. Normal Giles was a lot more put together than this. “Giles, where are you going?”

He paused, book still in his hand as he reluctantly shifted his attention back to her. “England,” he replied quietly. “The Watcher's Council has decided that it no longer intends to retain my services.”

“What, they fired you? Can they even do that?”

“The Council is extremely influential, they can do just about anything they want to,” he said sadly.

“And so you're just, what, leaving the country? Overreact much? We still need you, Giles. Buffy still needs you. You haven't been fired as librarian, have you? Can't you just stay here and be her unofficial Watcher? A Glancer, maybe, or a Looker, except no, not that one because that means something else that I don't want to think about right now.” She could feel the words babbling out long after she'd stopped making sense, but she couldn't stop them. After last night's confrontation, and Buffy's worry over getting her powers back, she couldn't handle more huge news like this. When she got stressed she got babbly. 

“Willow.” Giles quieted her with a soft word and a deep breath. He put down the book and started cleaning his glasses, regret deep in the lines on his face. “I have not formally been relieved of my position here at Sunnydale, but in light of the gravity of recent occurrences, and given the severity of my dialogue with Buffy on her disposition towards-”

“Giles! Speak English, not...English. What are you trying to say? What happened?” She tried willing back the sense of mounting alarm, but it did little good. 

“The Cruciamentum.” Giles took a deep breath before continuing. “It is a trial performed with every Slayer when she reaches her eighteenth birthday. The objective is to affirm that she has not grown dependant on her abilities, and possesses cunning and ingenuity, even when otherwise powerless.” 

Willow said nothing in response.

“The Slayer is administered an organic compound that naturally suppresses her powers, and she is then, under controlled circumstances, faced with a vampire under the Council's control.”

“Her powers.” She looked at him in horror. “You knew why she was losing her powers, you caused it, and you didn't tell her?”

“The Council was very clear that informing the Slayer of the nature of the test would invalidate it. I was only trying to...” He bit his words off in frustration, but Willow's only reaction was an expression of growing despair.

“The test is an archaic exercise in cruelty, and I have tried to convince the Council as such before. I should have had the guts to defy them earlier, and to tell Buffy everything from the start. But I didn't. As it turned out, the Council's attempt at controlled circumstances was a shambles, and their vampire escaped and attacked Buffy. I brought her here and told her everything. That was supposed to be the end of it.” A dark bitterness she wasn't used to hearing from Giles filled his tone.

“But it wasn't.” It wasn't a question.

“No. It would seem that, after escaping, the vampire went after Buffy's mother. She went to the old boarding house on Prescott lane, by herself, without her powers, and faced him.” He let that hang in the air for a moment. “So, I nearly got Buffy and her mother killed, or worse, I have violated Buffy's trust in a way I don't believe I will ever repair, and incidentally have also been fired. I don't think returning to England before I do any more damage to be that much of an overreaction.” He curtly started packing more of the books on his desk.

“Oh.” Willow quietly staggered out of the office and sat at the library table, almost on autopilot. First Buffy losing her powers, then her apparently losing Buffy as a friend, and now losing Giles. She wasn't processing, wasn't prepared to handle having to deal with any more tragic news.

Of course, that's when the scream came from the hallway.

Willow remained seated, distantly aware that screams were a bad thing that should be paid attention to, but reluctant to engage with anything else. Giles popped his head out of the doorway again, glancing at her and then the library doors.

“Did I hear, was that someone screaming?” He looked at Willow, who only shrugged vaguely. Screaming was a regular occurrence in this school, and it felt like it lost some of its urgency after a while. 

“Yes, well, do you think...I suppose someone should check if everyone is alright.” He tentatively put his book on the counter and made his way to the hallway, checking back at Willow as he went. He did not make it very far before the doors swung open and Oz walked in, immediately locking eyes with Willow and nodding in relief. 

“Will. You're alright.” He approached her and took her hand in his, frowning at the troubled look on her face.

“Oz. Was that screaming I heard?” Giles inquired casually.

“Yeah. Dead guy.” He shrugged.

“Ah. Vampire?”

“Dunno. Didn't get a good look. Didn't look bit though, just dead.” Oz didn't take his eyes off Willow, stroking the back of her palm but not pressing her for details. “Say, are they taking away all of your books again?”

“No.” Giles' irritation was clear. “The head of the Watcher's Council was here last night, and he fired me. This packing is in preparation for my return to England.”

“Huh." Oz let that sit for a second as he considered. "Say, this Watcher's Council guy, would you say he looked kind of like you, but older and stuffier?”

“Yes, I suppose that might be a supremely charitable way of describing Quentin Travers. Why?” His eyes suddenly widened. “Is he...?”

“Looks like. They found him in Ms. Barton's classroom. Didn't look like there was much of a struggle.”

“Giles, no, I can't, I can't handle all of this, it's too much.” Willow began quietly hyperventilating. Oz squeezed her hand tighter.

“Willow. Everything, everything will be all right. I may be leaving, but nothing else here will be changing. Buffy will be getting a new Watcher, and you will all continue fighting evil, just the same. Now,-”

“But it won't be the same!” Willow cut him off with a bawl. “Buffy doesn't even know if she's getting her powers back, and she doesn't want to be my friend, and now Faith's here to do all that stuff with her and it's not going to be the same at all!” She began sobbing again into Oz's shoulder as he held her.

Giles opened and shut his mouth a couple of times as he struggled to speak, clearly aware of how out of his element comforting a crying teenage girl was. He settled on hurriedly cleaning his glasses while Oz petted her and stroked her hair. When she had calmed to a more regular breathing, he spoke.

“Buffy is getting her powers back. The compound is a simple solution that relaxes muscles and suppresses adrenaline, and it only lasts a couple of days. I assured Buffy of that when I showed her the...” He gestured towards the empty syringe case but couldn't bring himself to say the rest of the words.

“She didn't sound like she knew that when we talked last night. And she was...kinda mean.” She sniffled.

“Well, this has been a very...difficult experience for her. I think she deserves all the space and sympathy we can offer her...you can offer her, right now. If she expressed any harsh feelings towards you last night, I doubt it was you they were intended for. I imagine she's probably feeling guilty about it right now. I know she still wants to be your friend.” The weight of things were clearly settling on him, talking about supporting Buffy with the knowledge that he wouldn't be there to do it himself.

“Heavy stuff.” Oz added to the emotional silence that followed. “I haven't seen her yet, sounds like she might have taken the day off, but I can drive you over to her place after school if you want to talk to her.”

Willow thought for a moment, then gave a small nod. “I'd...like that. Can you maybe...come talk to her with me? I think she's freaking, she was really upset last night, and I dunno if I can hold myself together if we talk like that again.”

“Of course. I'm always here.” He kissed her forehead.

“So, Giles. Dead guy?” 

“Ah, yes, on to lighter matters. I don't know, his death can't be connected to the Council vampire who escaped. Perhaps you and Xander can find out who found the body, see if there are any clues on it or anything...” He paused with a thoughtful frown. “Where is Xander, anyway?”


	8. Xander

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: This chapter contains depictions of sexual violence and rape.**

“Oh God, no, stop, I can't take any more.” Buffy collapsed on the bed next to Xander, giggling. “You absolute beast, you. I can't withstand any more of your manly charms.”

Beneath her, Xander lay naked on the bed that had once been Joyce's, hands and feet tied to the corners with thick rope. Red lines covered his bare chest and stomach, and his limbs were covered in gashes. His body was slick with sweat and his eyes fluttered closed with exhaustion. She wrapped her fingers around his jaw as he started to fade out and shook him roughly.

“Hey, is that any way to treat a girl? You got yours and now you're just going to roll over and fall asleep? I don't think so, mister.” She ran her nails down his chest, slicing over existing wounds, and Xander let out a desperate gasp of pain. His eyes remained closed tight.

“Aww, what's the matter Xand?” she purred, snuggling up next to him. “Isn't this what you had in mind, all those times you've fantasized about me? I always figured you'd like it a little rough.” She stroked her finger across his cheek. “Can I do something to make it better for you? An outfit, perhaps? Or ooh, maybe another playmate! You'd love being in bed with two girls at once, wouldn't you? Perhaps I could convince Willow to join us.”

A single tear trickled out from his shut eyelids and rolled down his face. He spoke softly, barely a whisper, and it was not a defiant statement but an earnest plea. “Bite me.”

“Aww, you want our fun to be over already? I dunno, you've waited so long for this, I kinda feel like I should make it last longer. Plus, it's still hours until sundown, what's a girl to do all cooped up in here by herself if she doesn't have something to play with?”

He shook his head wearily. “Just a taste. Please.” He opened his eyes a fraction, but did not focus them on anything.

“Just a taste? Why, Xander Harris, are you asking me to make you a vampire? That's a pretty big question to pop on our first date, I don't know if I'm ready for that kind of commitment.” She looked at him with a big grin. He managed to muster the energy to shake his head again.

“No. Just drink. Just a little.” He looked at her with desperation. 

“Wow, I'll be honest, I didn't imagine you being so considerate in bed. Sort of figured you'd want it to be all about you” She rolled on top of him again, face shifting into bumps and fangs. “But hey, if that's what you want.”

His eyes finally met hers, but instead of fear, she felt the tension start to ebb out of him as he relaxed just slightly. Frowning, she looked down at him through piercing yellow eyes and settled back against his thighs.

“Now, what is it that makes you want to see me like this, hmm? Does it make you hot? I forgot, you like a little demon in your women, don't you?" She leaned in close, whispering seductively in his ear as her fangs brushed his neck. "Do you make with the sexy, naughty, sweaty-making thoughts even more with vampire Buffy than you did with human Buffy?” Xander's response was an exclamation more from reflex than anything else.

“You're not her.” He scrunched his face in anticipation of whatever violence was to come next.

“What? I'm not- Oh, I get it,” another predatory smile crossed her face, “I'm not your friend, I'm not your fantasy, not when I'm like this. Just another monster.” She relaxed and let her features shift back to normal. Xander flinched. “But it doesn't work that way, Xand. I am her. Same body, same memories, same thoughts and feelings. All that's changed is that I don't care about being nice about it any more.”

“She could never do this,” he bit out. She let out a peal of laughter in response.

“She really could have. You never understood her at all, did you? Any of you. Why do you think she was always alone, in the dark, pulling away from her friends and family? Her life was defined by violence.” She absently ran her nails down his sides again, leaving fresh new lines that trickled blood onto the sheets. “You've fought a few monsters, but she killed every night. Hundreds if not thousands of creatures, since before she was sixteen. You think her first reflex towards anything wasn't to gouge its eyes out, stab it til it bled, sink her fingers deep into its flesh and tear it to shreds? She wanted to do this to you every time you two had so much as an argument, purely on instinct. She just felt really bad about it.” Buffy pouted, an exaggerated gesture like she was talking to a child.

“Life as a Slayer is all about blood and entrails. She isolated herself from you because she couldn't handle feeling like she was supposed to solve every problem between you two by beating you into a pulp. I'm her, I'm just not conflicted about it any more.” She leaned in and ran her tongue up his ribs, lapping up the sweet blood that trickled along them. “And we still have a lot of things to talk about. Like the time you roofied me with magic and had me begging you to undress me, or the time a hyena unleashed your most basic desires, and you tried to rape me. I'm surprised you're not enjoying this more. It seems like this is where you've been trying to get since you met me.”

“I didn't...I...not like...this...” His voice was distant, overwhelmed with pain and emotions. 

“Yeah, well, no shit. In your fantasy, you're the one on top, right?” He didn't respond. She could see him shutting down as he retreated further inside himself. She dug her nails into him again, but he only twitched slightly in reflex. Frustrated, she swung herself off of him, adjusting the tiny black vinyl dress she was barely wearing, and stalked over to the window. 

She had more plans for him before she broke out the toys that would leave him maimed or dead, but already he was starting to shut down when she pushed him too hard, and it took all of the fun out of it. He was such a wimp when it came to torture. To be fair, she was still learning the ropes herself, and she was probably doing too much too quickly, but it was hard to restrain herself when everything was so new and exciting. His terror last night when he had first understood what was happening had been intoxicating, and she had so badly wanted to keep him like that all day, but he'd spent the last couple of hours exhausted and barely responsive, and frankly she felt like she was running out of ideas and was starting to repeat herself. 

It was enough to make her want to go find Angel and give him another happy, just so that she could sit Angelus down and ask him how he did it. Her human experience of Angelus had been one of continually mounting dread, and although she had been preoccupied with guilt and anxiety at the time, looking back on it she had to admire his sense of pacing. He would probably have Xander alert and begging right now which, as she thought about it, was a very fun mental picture of the two of them.

Delicately pulling the slat of the blind down, and making sure she was out of the direct sunlight, she peered outside. Her garden used to be a tranquil place that she enjoyed sitting in, but now it was transformed into a nightmare hellscape. Searing rays hot enough to turn flesh to ash filled the air, and everything was blindingly bright to her sensitive eyes. Even just the tiny sunbeams that came through the gap in the blinds felt like lava as they passed near her skin. The sun sat low in the sky, a newly terrifying beacon of destruction, and she was trapped indoors for another few hours until sundown, just her and Xander.

Then came a knock at the door.

Xander gasped, and Buffy turned with interest towards the door.

“Now, who could that be, come to join our fun?” She walked back to the bed and knelt beside it. “I'm going to go downstairs and open the door. You might think it's a good idea to call for help, or yell for them to run, but I'll snap their neck before they can make it outside, got it? Just stay here and be quiet like a good boy, and I won't have to punish you.” 

Stepping gingerly down the stairs, she carefully avoided the pools of sunlight that streamed through the glass and pulled the front door open. It was like opening an oven door, as the hallway filled with a wall of heat and light, but she made sure she was well back from it as she peered casually around the door at Willow and Oz. Fortunately, Willow stepped immediately inside and Oz followed her, letting Buffy shut the door behind them without any awkwardness.

“Buffy!” Willow was full of her usual nervous energy whenever she was preparing for any kind of conflict, no matter how small. “I'm glad you're home, you look good.” Only then did she actually turn to register her friend, standing in the hallway in a provocative black dress and nothing else, hair tousled from exertion. “Oh! Actually, you look kinda like you're going through a crisis, which is totally okay, because I know a lot of stuff has happened recently, and I need you to know that I'm still here to support your choices, even if I don't understand them.” She flapped her arms as she spoke and paced back and forth in the living room. Oz remained where he was in the hallway, staring at Buffy with a casual but intense curiosity. 

“Will, hi. I wasn't at school today.” Buffy said lamely, mostly for her own benefit in reminding herself what she was talking about. Instinctively, she glanced upstairs, wondering if Xander could hear them. Oz followed her quick glance.

“Yeah, that's kind of why we came by. You don't happen to know where Xander is, do you? He wasn't there either.” Oz spoke with his usual laconic calm, apparently not phased by her appearance. 

“No, I've just been home today. You know, processing everything that's happened.” She walked towards Willow, but stopped just outside the pool of light that flowed through the window and filled the living room floor. Oz took a deep breath as she walked past and frowned slightly in thought. 

“Giles told us everything. I can't believe he would do that! He was totally wrong, and he feels awful about it, which he should, but I needed you to know that I'm always here for you.” She walked right up to Buffy, still bathed in sunlight but close enough to grab. Buffy could hear her heart pounding, practically see the blood flowing through the veins under her pale skin. Her stomach rumbled as she realized she'd been up all day with no food, and it was a sudden effort of will not to devour Willow where she stood.

“Thank you. It means a lot to me to know you still care.” She wanted to have more fun with the redhead before she ate her, although she was going to have to eat someone as soon as the sun went down.

“Of course I care! You're my best friend. I made everything last night about me, and I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry. I can't imagine how difficult going through all of this has been for you. I am totally not-judgey.” She started to gesture towards Buffy's almost there outfit, then abandoned the gesture halfway through. 

Buffy smiled. The major trauma card was going to buy her so much leeway to build hurt feelings before she pushed things far enough that Willow realized something was wrong. And Giles was wallowing in his guilt trip, which would certainly put him off his game for noticing anything was wrong. Everything was going perfectly. 

And then Xander groaned. 

It was a quiet noise, muffled by the bedroom door and imperceptible to human hearing, although her twice enhanced Slayer-vampire senses caught it easily, but Oz twitched his head towards the stairs immediately.

“Buffy...” He reached out and grabbed her wrist, pointing upstairs with his thumb when he froze. Belatedly, Buffy remembered his frustratingly acute werewolf senses, which had probably picked up Xander's scent on her the minute they walked in. And from his expression, he had certainly picked up on the fact that her skin was room temperature and without a pulse. “Will-” he exclaimed, before Buffy slammed her palm into his chest and he flew across the room, shattering the cabinet against the wall and falling unconscious beside the sofa. 

Before Willow could react, she grabbed her by the shirt and hauled her out of the sun and into the hallway. Her fingers burned with the heat, but nothing burst into flame. Still, it made her reluctant to even try grabbing Oz, lying as he was in the middle of the pool of light. He was out cold, and could wait until the sun was starting to set before she drained him dry. 

“Oz!” Willow cried out before her scream was choked off with Buffy's vice grip on her throat. The ex-Slayer brushed her long red hair away from her neck and leaned in close, almost able to taste the hot blood rushing beneath the surface. 

“Oh well. I guess we're done playing around now.”


	9. Scoobies

The door opened with a crash as Willow was hurtled through it onto the floor. From the bed, Xander started moaning “No, no, no...” as Buffy stepped into view, leaning casually in the door frame as Willow rubbed her throat and looked in horror between her and Xander.

“Well, isn't this fun. The Scooby gang, all together. You'll have to forgive Xander for not getting up, he finally got what he wanted, and his stamina's not quite what I'd have hoped. But hey, maybe he can still get hard for you, since you two are making time finally. Whatta ya say, want to take him for a ride?” 

“Oh God, no,” she whispered, letting out a little sob as she tried to take in everything that had happened, “Buffy, no...”

“Oh yeah, Will, I'm finally free. No more destiny, no more whining friends. It's quite a rush. You should try it.” Buffy let her face shift, fangs and yellow eyes leaving no question of what she was talking about. Willow's eyes went wide, and she scurried backwards across the floor away from her.

“She's dead, Will,” Xander's hoarse voice came from the bed, “she's gone.”

“I'm not gone, I'm right here. And now that the gang's together again, we can have fun the three of us.” She strolled lazily over to Xander's side and slid her sharp nails painfully along his existing wounds. His cry became a strangled gasp of pain, and Willow shouted on instinct.

“No, stop it!” She flinched back as Buffy turned her head, evil yellow eyes staring intently at her.

“What's the matter, upset to see him with yet another girl he's wanted that isn't you? You've got to be getting used to that by now.” She continued dragging her fingers across his body, lower and lower, as she spoke.

“I said, stop it!” Willow found her feet, rising up as she squared her shoulders, fear still evident on her face and in her stance but matched with a steel that came from a place beyond terror. “You're not her. Not the girl he loved, not the friend we cared about, you're just the thing that killed her. You're not going to twist any words to make us feel worse about ourselves, or her. And you will pay for what you've done.” She quivered a little as she spoke, but there was fire in her eyes.

“Whoa, check out the backbone on the redhead!” Buffy looked impressed, nodding with a proud little smile before darting across the room, sweeping Willow's legs out from under her and planting her boot on her chest. “Not very smart, but spunky.” Willow let out a little squeak as she hit the floor again.

Buffy leaned down as she spoke. “You're right, though. I had all these things I still wanted to say to you, all those secret little resentments she had towards you that she never let on, about how you had a family and a future and blah blah blah, petty schoolgirl whining. But I'm not her, I'm so much more, and I've been trying to express my frustrations to Xander here but it's been all day and I'm bored, and I'm hungry, and I'm thinking maybe we should skip to the big finish.” She relaxed, and her appearance slipped back to normal, except for the cruel glint in her eye.

“So, here's the new plan. I'm going to turn one of you, just like me. And when you wake up, your best friend is going to be the first person that you eat.” She stepped off Willow's chest, hauling her to her feet and depositing her in a chair next to the bed. Picking up the rest of the rope she had used on Xander, she deftly tied Willow to the chair. “So the two of you are going to have a nice conversation about who's getting turned and who's getting eaten, because I'm going to keep torturing you until you both agree on an answer.”

Willow looked over at Xander's bloodied naked body, and suddenly could hold her tears back no longer. Unchecked sobs of equal parts fear and sorrow tore out of her as she wiggled helplessly against the ropes.

Buffy jerked her head towards the door. “I'll give you two love bunnies a few minutes alone before we move on to the next round. Use it wisely!” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Downstairs, the pool of light around Oz began to fade as the sun sank towards the horizon. Perched near him, legs draped over the arm of her chair, Buffy lazed, waiting for him to wake up or for the sun to set enough for her to pick him up and eat him without getting burned. Tuning in to her keen new senses, she could hear his heartbeat quicken and his intake of breath as he started to come to. As he blinked his eyes open and pushed himself to his knees, the sun slipped behind the trees and the living room was filled only with the light of dusk.

Smiling, Buffy hopped up from her chair, picked Oz up by the neck, and slammed him again against the wall. “Boy, you sure do have a good nose on you, don'tcha?”

Oz glowered at her as he tried to hold her fingers back from crushing his windpipe. “You smell like Xander. And blood.” Despite his position, his voice was still irritatingly even. She seriously had to kill some less taciturn people.

“Yeah, well, now I probably smell like your girl, too. You know, I was thinking about letting the two of you walk out of here again with only some hurt feelings. You're the one who made me get all bad-moody with the spoiling my fun. Maybe think about how this is all your fault while I eat you.” She grinned at him as her fangs came out to play, leaning in towards his neck. 

“You really forgot about my wolf side, huh?” His hand came up ineffectually against her throat as he tried to hold her at bay. She ignored him, too hungry now from the long wait and sitting watching his heart beat just out of reach for over an hour. Not even bothering to bat his arm away, she pressed in and sank her teeth into the soft, furry skin of his neck. The part of her brain that knew better warred for a long moment with her demon that cared only about the feed, and then she felt the delicate fingers around her throat shift into powerful claws. 

With a feral snarl, the wolf bit down on Buffy's neck and shoulder. Lacking the precision of her fangs, it tore cloth and flesh with a whole mouth of sharp teeth, and its suddenly increased bulk pressed down on her as she disengaged from its neck. A second later, they were on the ground, the creature's strength a closer match to her own and backed with savage ferocity. Its claws tore into her arms, chest and side, finding purchase in her skin as she tried to gain the leverage to push it off of her. It clung fast, pressing its weight down on top of her, biting again into her bleeding shoulder and shaking her viciously. Her outstretched arm wrapped around the leg of the coffee table, and with a crash she brought the whole thing down on the beast's head. 

Shoving its chest with full force as it shifted its weight for a moment in recoiling from the attack, she slammed it into the far wall. With an athletic kick flip she leapt to her feet just as the wolf recovered and barrelled into her, taking her through the glass of the living room door and into the dining room. As they went, she grabbed the top of the dining room door frame, swinging herself back and up and away from the charge attack. It didn't take her out of the monster's grasp, but it threw it slightly off balance, and she was able to wrap one leg around its head and twist, throwing it into the dining table which shattered. She winced at the large splinters of wood that went flying around the room.

It recovered again just as quickly, lunging forward with a terrible snarl, but she was already on her feet and met it with a kick to the face, then a fist, and an elbow, punching with unrestrained force. The creature fell backwards with each blow, but its thick hide and mystical strength of its own protected it enough that it kept coming, snapping with teeth and slashing with claws, drawing more wounds from her arms. The pain registered in her mind, but she had a new companion now, giving her drive and focus and allowing her to ignore the frailty of mortal flesh. Her demon surged in her, revelling in the pain as much as each hit she landed on her opponent, fighting with style and athleticism but also animal ferocity. Buffy had only ever wanted to win, to defeat her enemy and kill the monsters. Now, she wanted to hurt it, feel it suffer, tear its limbs off and feast on the blood of its corpse. It was an energizing feeling that lent more fury and desperation to each of her attacks. She was angry. She was hungry.

A huge claw swung at her and she ducked into a roll past the wolf, ready to come up with a prime counterattack from behind it, when she suddenly had to adjust her movement to dodge a nasty looking wooden shard that remained of the table. For a split-second she was off balance, and the wolf pressed the advantage, forcing her back into the kitchen, matching all of her hunger and fury with its own. Its teeth clamped down on her arm like a hydraulic press, and even her demon recognized that she was about to get the limb torn from its socket. With her free hand, she pulled free a kitchen knife from the block on the counter and jammed it into the wolf's hide. It howled in pain and she freed her arm, rolling backwards across the counter and grabbing more projectiles as she landed. A frying pan connected with the wolf's face, and then another knife sliced through its shoulder. With a bellow of fear and frustration, the creature turned from her and charged the back door, smashing it off its hinges as it ran out into the night. 

Buffy watched it go, unwilling to continue the fight and not terribly interested in what the wolf did as long as it wasn't trying to eat her. She realized she was breathing heavily on instinct, and turned her attention to her body. Her heart wasn't racing like usual, obviously. She stopped breathing, and her body settled into its new perpetual stillness. The pain from her wounds was still there, but far more muted than it had ever been in life, like a series of insect bites she could choose to ignore. Even with blood running down her shirt, it felt incredible. She could shrug off bullet wounds like this, she was better, stronger, than she had ever been, and the power of it felt so right. 

She was also hungrier than she had ever been. The bloodlust of the fight hadn't faded at all, and she was desperate to rip somebody's throat out and feast herself on their hot, pumping blood. Snarling with unsatisfied need, she headed back towards the stairs.


	10. Willow

As Buffy reached the bottom of the stairs, the bedroom door swung open and an unbound Willow stepped out into the hallway. The two women paused, each regarding the other in their wounded states. Buffy was slashed with claw marks and one shoulder was bloody from wolf bites, the broken strap of her dress dangling free. Blood ran down her side and dripped at her feet, lacerations criss-crossed her bare skin, but still she stood there, strong and with malevolent hunger in her eyes.  
Willow was in one piece but still coated with blood, although most of it was Xander's. Buffy had made quite a mess in there before she had left them to keep watch over Oz. The dark red patches stained the fuzzy blue bunny sweater she wore.

“Your boyfriend put up quite a fight.” Buffy stared up at Willow accusingly.

“Well,” Willow's tone remained even, “when you were human, you paid attention to things like the full moon. All those enhanced Slayer vampire senses and you still miss what's right in front of you.” 

“Oh, you so don't want to test me right now.” Buffy gave an exasperated little laugh. “I just worked up one hell of an appetite and I am ready to start tearing out throats.” She began stalking up the stairs.

“Maybe I do want to test you.” Willow didn't flinch or back down. “And you're not getting another drop of blood here.”

In one fluid blur of motion, Buffy was at the top of the stairs, hand around Willow's throat and pressing the girl against the wall. Her demon took too much control for her to be able to form any words beyond a guttural snarl, and she bared her fangs in rage. She locked her yellow eyes with the other's gaze, and then- Willow's fist connected with her face. 

Buffy slammed into the far wall, already rebounding from the impact and coming back swinging, but the redhead ducked and pivoted in an almost bored manner, jabbing Buffy's stomach as she shot past. Buffy collided into the other wall, and Willow followed her motion with a kick to the small of her back that propelled her down the hallway. Buffy struck out with a fist, a sweeping roundhouse kick and another fist, but Willow dodged lazily out of the way, parrying a couple of Buffy's wild strikes before lunging in and connecting with the Slayer's chest, driving her back again and crashing through the bathroom door. For a moment she lay there on the cold tile, and Willow swaggered into the broken door frame. 

“I've been wanting to kick your ass like that for so long. Do you have any idea how annoying it gets listening to you whine about the burden of having superpowers?” She smiled down with contempt at the girl on the floor. “Well, it looks like you're nothing special any more.”

Coiled like a spring, Buffy flipped to her feet and spun, landing one foot on Willow's chest before she could dodge. The redhead flew across the hall, knocking Buffy's door off its hinges and landing in a tumble on her bed. Buffy took her turn leaning on the shattered doorway. “I'm still better than everyone else.” 

Willow's head snapped up, anger in her eyes, but Buffy held up a hand. “I'll beat you to a pulp whenever you like, but right now, I'm ravenous. Would you really rather fight with me than go out together on your first hunt?” There was no denying the avarice that crept into Willow's expression at the suggestion. She shifted her posture from a fighting stance to a childish pout.

“You hardly even left any of Xander for me, he was like drinking a half-empty juicebox.” She crossed her arms in a sulk.

Buffy grinned. “I did make a bit of a mess, didn't I? I'm finally getting the chance to explore my artistic side.” She looked down at the remnants of a dress she was wearing, tattered and bloodstained. “I just need to throw on something a little more suitable for dinner. You might want to consider borrowing something yourself.” She arched an eyebrow at the cute, fuzzy and bloodstained outfit Willow had on.

Willow also glanced down in disgust. “Ugh, don't remind me.” She glanced back up as Buffy peeled the top of her shredded dress down and stepped out of it, naked and glistening in blood as she reached into her wardrobe for some of the few remaining clothes she had deemed worth keeping. Willow's eyes lingered on her backside as she started to shimmy into tight red leather pants, shoulders swaying slightly as she tracked Buffy's wiggles back and forth. Standing up, she pulled off her sweater and ripped open the clasp on her basic pink bra. They fell to the floor behind her as she draped herself over Buffy, feeling the novel sensation of room temperature skin on skin as their two topless bodies pressed together. With a purr in her voice, she growled in Buffy's ear.

“Kicking your ass isn't the only thing I've been wanting to do to it for a long time.” She slid her fingers beneath the tight material of the pants and squeezed, marvelling at how good the contact felt despite none of the warmth she would have associated with such a touch. Buffy laughed.

“Oh really? That's an unexpected turn.” She twisted to face Willow, grabbing her wrist and guiding it out of her pants before it ended up anywhere else. “But you're going to have as much luck with one as the other, so I'd get used to being disappointed.” Willow responded with a sultry schoolgirl pout, biting one corner of her lip in a wickedly innocent expression. Buffy laughed again. “If you wanted that kind of fun, I offered you Xander!”

Willow made a face. “Juicebox.” Her pout became a genuine one again. “Besides, I was hungry. I didn't want to wait. I want to play _now_.” She slammed herself against Buffy, pushing her into the closet door and attempting to pin her in place. Buffy responded with a knee that lifted her off her feet and set her sailing across the room, cracking the mirror that rested in the corner. Its spiderwebbed surface reflected an empty room.

“Yes, well, I am hungry, and I swear if you waste any more time keeping me from feeding I will rip your head clean off.” Buffy slipped on a simple black top, and threw another at Willow. “So keep up or don't but I'm getting some fresh, hot blood. Now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The pair hadn't even covered the distance to the Bronze when they came across their first victims, a teenage couple necking in the shadows of a children's play park. Willow was faster, high on the energy of her first real kill. She strode up to the couple, wrapped her fingers in his long shaggy hair and tossed him aside, leaning in to finish the kiss with the girl before she even realized what had happened. She pulled away on instinct, but Willow circled her arm around her and held her firm, dipping her in a deep, enthusiastic kiss before shifting into her game face and sinking her fangs into the yielding flesh of her neck. The girl screamed, and for a moment, Willow loosened her grip, wanting to prolong the moment before her prey fell unconscious. But then the intensity of her taste hit her, sweet and musky and bitter, and she lost herself in the sensation of devouring. The woman's screams reached a crescendo and then trailed off, going limp in her embrace, but Willow's entire world had narrowed to just the warmth slipping across her tongue and down her throat. After a second that felt like an eternity, her mouth ran dry, and she released the other woman to fall limply from her arms.

Behind her, the boy lay sprawled on the ground, Buffy kneeling over his body and sucking the last drops of blood from her fingers. Her long blonde hair was tousled and fell carelessly across the ridges of her forehead, highlighting the strange beauty of her demonic visage. It was so recently, Willow reflected, that she had been cowering from that face, terrified of what it meant. So scared of it that she had insisted Buffy turn her, thinking it an act of self-sacrifice. The only thing she had feared more than this transformation was forcing the boy she had loved to undergo it in her place.

What a little idiot she had been. Pleading Xander to let her go, to convince him to agree to let Buffy turn her, mewling on her knees even after he said the words as Buffy had forced her to beg for it...they had been empty words full of fear and guilt, but now, she was free of those emotions. Free of so much fear, and guilt, and finally willing to take everything that she wanted.

“I'm still so hungry.” She didn't take her eyes off Buffy nuzzling the last of her bloody fingers. Standing up, Buffy gave her an eager smile.

“Then let's go get us some more.” Buffy stalked past her with a confident grin, then took off at a run for the Bronze. With a happy snarl, Willow gave chase.


	11. Faith

The Bronze was teeming with life, a mediocre attempt at a rock band wailing too loudly into the microphone and a mass of hormonal teens swaying out of sync to the music. Buffy was disgusted that she had ever wanted to come here for fun. What had once seemed a welcome relief from the burden of her responsibilities now seemed garish. However, it was also an excellent hunting ground for sating her hunger. The boy in the park had only been the beginning. She had stopped so many vampire attacks on this place, putting her life on the line to save the helpless, mewling crowds, and now that she was on the other side of it she so badly craved a massacre.  
But she'd also done this dance enough times to know the logistics of how many vampires were needed to keep everyone from fleeing out into the night, and it was more than two. For now, they would feed in quiet. Tomorrow night, then she would round up some lackeys and return, and she and Willow would feast and maim to their heart's content. The more she began to let go of her fantasies of petty revenge against the people who had once mattered to her and embrace the pure ecstasy of death, the less she cared about maintaining her charade. If she wanted to watch Giles squirm more before she killed him, maybe she should just drag him here and make him watch while his Slayer slaughtered the place.

“I want that one.” Willow pointed to a couple on the edge of the dance floor whose dancing had grown very handsy, and who looked like they were about to stumble into the alleyway outside. She stared down at them from the catwalk with undisguised hunger, the mask of her former self replaced with avarice and bloodlust. 

“Well, this is your first night out. Whatever you want, you can have. You take the boy, I'll take the girl?” Buffy grinned at her, anticipating her objection. Willow seemed to be free now to explore a lot of tastes she'd never pursued in life.

“No, I get the girl.” She was already in motion, down the stairs without regard for the crowd, pushing through anyone in her way. Buffy smiled at her enthusiasm and followed. Outside, Willow approached the couple making out against the wall near the dumpster and shoved the boy out of her way without hesitation. He let out a startled cry and started to approach her, but Buffy grabbed him from behind and pulled him back into the shadowed doorway.

“No no, you let her have her fun, and I'll have mine.” Her game face shifted and she sank her teeth into his neck, gorging herself once again on the sweet taste of life flowing over her tongue and down her throat. A panicked cry came from the alley, Willow trying to pace herself a little more this time and enjoy the moment before she drained her victim. The girl pressed herself as far into the corner as she could, calling desperately for help as Willow advanced on her, taking a moment to soak in her fear before wrapping her fingers in the girl's hair and pulling her head to one side, exposing the tender flesh of her neck.

“Hey! I don't think she feels that way about you, creep.” A sharp voice came from the other end of the alley. Willow turned in instinctive defence of her catch, fangs bared. A sharp draw of breath was audible. “Red?”

Sequestered in the shadows, Buffy finished draining the boy and gently lowered his corpse to the ground as Faith stepped into view beside her. The Slayer had her stake drawn and ready to use, but her shock at seeing Willow caused her to falter. Wiping the blood away from her lips, Buffy let her demon subside before emerging from the darkness by Faith's side. The Slayer's head whipped between them.

“B! What happened? They got Willow...” She kept her attention fixed on the redhead, shifting automatically to put Buffy behind and beside her. Willow snarled, and the girl behind her took that as her cue to dart around her and flee out of the alley. She watched her prey leave with disappointment, but her bloodlust was easily turned on the new Slayer.

“I know. She got sloppy. Didn't see it coming.” Buffy injected sadness into her voice, her brain working for a moment to remind herself what that sounded like, so caught up in the newfound joy of feeding and hunting was she that it seemed like an entirely alien emotion. Out of Faith's field of view, she took a step closer, her gaze fixating on the other girl's neck. Vampires were never done talking about how good the blood of a slayer was supposed to taste, how memorable and exhilarating a kill one was. It seemed only fair that she should get to find out for herself. 

“Well, this sucks, but better me than you, I think. I'm sorry B, but it's got to be done.” Faith dashed forward, meeting Willow in a flurry of blows as the vampire mirrored her movement. She caught Willow across the jaw, then a snap kick across her stomach, but Willow caught her stake arm and pivoted, pulling the Slayer off balance and pushing her into the wall. Buffy advanced slowly, letting Faith tire herself out first before joining the fray.

Springing off the wall with a high kick that soared just over Willow's head, Faith lashed out with several sharp jabs that pushed the redhead backwards as she pummelled her, regaining momentum as she blocked the counter-attacks, rolling underneath Willow's mid-kick and snapping off a powerful blow to her spine as she leapt back to her feet. For all of her enthusiasm, Willow was still a newly-sired vampire, and she fought like it. Wide, hungry strikes, struggling to balance the need for the kill with the desire to come close and feast while the blood was still pumping, and totally unaccustomed to her own newfound strength and agility. Buffy was reminded that she had a wealth of experience and instincts that Willow was only just beginning to touch, and that a newly sired vampire alone was seldom a challenge for a Slayer. 

Oh well, time to save her neck once again. Faith moved in for the kill, stake held ready as Buffy sidled up behind her and wrapped her hand around the Slayer's wrist, yanking hard and pulling her backwards and off balance.

“B! What the hell-” Faith staggered to find her feet as Buffy punched her hard in the face, dropping her to the concrete. “She isn't your friend!” Faith looked up with a mixture of confusion and anger.

“Yeah?” Buffy glanced over at Willow as she picked herself off the wall. The redhead's demon had come out to play and was eager for death. “Well, I think friends are overrated anyway, don't you?”

Faith rolled backwards into a standing position, shifting her guard between the two of them, eyes widening as she cast an appraising look over her. “Oh no. Buffy, no. Tell me she didn't...” She raised her stake again, backing away slowly from the pair but running out of anywhere to go.

“Her?” Buffy laughed, high and cruel. “You're kidding. Like she could take me, alive or dead. Please.” Willow scowled at her. “This was purely a sympathy siring.”

Faith's gaze darted back and forth between the two of them and the entrance to the alleyway behind them. “Yeah, you're right, Giles hits harder than she does.” Buffy opened her mouth to retort but Willow was faster, lunging forward with her fangs bared and colliding with Faith.

“Will, no!” Buffy dashed forward half a second slower. Faith shifted her body as Willow rammed her and slammed the two of them into the alley wall, keeping her stake level with Willow's heart as they pressed together. Her eager fangs sunk into Faith's neck and for a fraction of a second she tasted blood, then her mouth snapped open again in pain as the wood pierced her chest. Her eyes met Buffy's and an expression of disappointment crossed her face before crumbling to dust. 

Buffy flung herself full force at Faith, rage fuelling her blows as she punched and kicked faster than the younger Slayer could deflect. She'd spent her whole career fighting with restraint and technique and form, or struggling to at least, and it felt too good to let go and just unleash. She didn't have a weapon, didn't need one, wasn't dispassionately trying to stake her and move on. She wanted to rip her throat out, tear her to pieces while she was still screaming, bathe in her warm blood as she lay dying. It was a passion for violence she'd never let herself embrace before and like fighting Oz it felt so right to give in to. Unlike fighting the giant werewolf, she was ecstatic about the prospect of the meal at the end of this fight.

Faith rolled underneath her and jumped up ready to stake her in the back, but Buffy was ready for her, snatching her wrist again with a laugh. One sharp twist and she heard a bone break, the stake falling suddenly from her limp fingers as she yelled in pain and smashed her good fist into Buffy's face. The two of them danced again, Faith ducking and weaving defensively as Buffy tried to close, hitting just hard enough to knock her off balance and keep her distance. Buffy's strikes were wilder, more powerful but less precise, her hunger rising and refusing to be ignored with every near miss. An injured Slayer should be an easy kill, but Faith kept retreating and with every second Buffy's frustration grew more distracting. At last, Faith's boot connected with her head and bounced her off the corner of the dumpster, and in the time it took her to get back to her feet the younger girl turned and ran. With a snarl, Buffy started to give chase, but her injury hadn't slowed Faith's running speed at all and she quickly disappeared in the crowd of people and maze of alleyways outside the Bronze. Furious and hungry, Buffy abandoned all pretext of subtlety and grabbed the nearest teenager by the collar and dragged him back into the alleyway with her, ignoring the screams that echoed behind her as she sank her fangs into his neck and started to drink.


End file.
